


Conception in the Feminine

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First War with Voldemort OR Second War with Voldemort, Order of the Phoenix - Freeform, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-19
Updated: 2007-07-19
Packaged: 2018-10-26 10:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10785270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: The story of Hermione Granger's conception. After Medical Science fails, and they have all but given up. The Grangers receive assistance from and unexpected quarter, proving once again the what goes around comes around.Hermione gives Dudley hell and Ron's exciting first meeting with Dumbledore.





	1. The Grangers

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Conception in the Feminine.

By alloy

"HERMIONE JANE GRANGER", The name was stenciled on pretty blue paper in the firm strong strokes of a 5 year old. Underneath her father had added "Eloquence" in a calligraphy pen, and framed it, placing it on her bedroom door.

Eloquence had manifested when she was three years old. She had objected to the actions of an older boy in nursery school, easily wrapping her tongue around his name she had loudly denounced him at every opportunity "Dudley Bully!" until his parents had placed him elsewhere. Later the teacher had confided in Sylvia Granger, "She was telling the truth, I couldn't very well scold her for that. Besides I'm pleased to see the nasty boy gone"

The blue paper too had been an issue, Hermione had been handed out pink paper, like all the other girls, but when the task was done, she had done it on blue paper. Her teacher had tried to discover which of the boys she had swapped with, but all of the boys had their own blue paper. Her attempts to get Hermione to redo the task on pink paper had been met with flat refusal. Why? She had done on pretty blue paper for Daddy, and she had spelt her name right, (and many of the other children hadn't).

Sylvia had a scrapbook of those years, the pictures she drawn, the lists she had made, always neatly labeled, with her name on the top. Of her likes, her dislikes, what she wanted for Christmas, and her birthday. 

The one letter to Santa had reduced Sylvia to tears, she had asked Santa for a brother, so that she could look after him, and help him with his homework. He could even have daddy's study for a bedroom, because Daddy didn't really study in there anyway.

She had demanded that they paint her room blue, not just any blue, but the grey-blue of a stormy sky.. They had tried to buy her posters of all the things that little girls like, but she had mostly declined. Though she had accepted the ones of the unicorns, and strangely enough a dragon. They had tried dolphins, but she really wasn't interested. 

They had been worries about her social skills. Not her vocabulary, she was first in her class in English, and spoke freely with adults, but she seemed unable to make friends in her own peer group.

Sylvia smiled, that had changed once she attended Hogwarts.

Her very first letters had spoken of Ron and Harry. Harry was an orphan, she had said, but Ron had five brothers and a baby sister! The number seemed to astound her. 

They had explained to her of course that she couldn't have a brother, that mummy had been told that she couldn't have any more children by the doctors. 

When she and Dennis had purchased this four-bedroom home, it had been their intention to fill it with children, but conception had been difficult. Fertility treatments had been expensive & painful, The hormones had run roughshod over own body's natural rhythms, the regimes had affected Dennis too, and children had begun to feel like distant dream.

They had chucked it all in, it had been that or their marriage, and made plans to sell the house. 

In an effort to rekindle their old passion had decided to take a weekend in the country.

They had taken 'Her' car, the Mini Cooper; it was in fact Dennis's toy, since they didn't really need a second car, as Sylvia caught the tube to work. Dennis liked to imagine himself a Rally driver at Monte Carlo, or as one of Michael Caine's Henchmen from the Italian Job. He even made little whooshing sounds as he threw the little car around the country bends, and Sylvia had laughed gaily at her husband, her lover.

It was a success; they had stayed at a small country inn, played bridge with another couple until late, and made love in the early morning. The weather turned foul on Sunday, and they had decided to leave early lest they get lost. 

On the way home they had stopped to give someone a lift, a woman. She was dressed quite oddly, they had assumed that she was an actor in one of the local pageants or fairs.

Sylvia had moved into the back seat, and woman climbed in slipping back her hood to reveal a mop of red hair.

"Thanks very much" she said, "It's these old Cleansweeps," she gestured to the battered looking broom in her hand, "can't stand the rain" 

They all laughed, thinking she was referring to her role in the pageant, and possibly to the reputation of Mini's to fail in the wet.

She had given Dennis directions to the nearby village of Ottery St. Catchpole, claiming that her husband was to meet her there.

Dennis had concentrated on the driving, while the ladies chatted. She told them that her name was Molly, and that she had run away today in order to escape the twins, who were teething. Molly as it turned out. Had five children, and seemed genuinely heartsore when Sylvia confessed her own inability to conceive.

When they arrived at the village, Molly had shaken Dennis's hand, "Thanks for saving me from drowning", she had then hugged Sylvia slipping a small silver charm into her hand, "Fertility amulet", she whispered, "I don't really need it".

Sylvia examined the charm as the made their way back to the main road, It was a beautifully engraved picture of a little girl; along the border of the charmthere was writing Latin. "Conception in the Feminine" she translated loosely. 

"Put it on," said Dennis, and so she had.

Twenty minutes later he had taken her. He had driven the little Mini roughshod off the road, parking it under an old oak tree. They had pushed the front seats of the Mini up, and he made love to her on the back bench. Ardently, vigorously, as if their lives, as if the world had depended on it. 

He had pulled over again, as they neared London, they had almost been caught, when the police stopped and asked them if they had broken down.

That night too, at home he had seemed tireless, until eventually she had asked him stop from sheer exhaustion.

Six weeks later her doctor had pronounced her pregnant. 

Dennis always maintained that Hermione was conceived in a country inn, but he never sold the Mini, he maintained it, polished it, rarely drove it, and told everyone it was Hermione's. A charm hanging from the rearview mirror and an old Cleansweep broom in the boot.


	2. The Weasleys - The Witch Charm

**Prologue:**

_“No charm shall bring a girl child to your womb, not before Strength is born, but fear not, Eloquence is born out of failure, and she shall be strength’s companion.”_

 

Molly shook herself free off the hag even as Arthur asked, “What did you say?”

The hag shrank back from him. “Please sir, please sir,” she entreated. “I don’t know, sir.” Her eyes were wide with fear. “Don’t hex me, sir. I’m ill, sir. I never remember what I say. Please don’t hex me, sir.”

“Here.” Molly watched as Arthur thrust a Sickle they could ill afford at the hag. “Get something to eat.”

“Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you.” The sickle was snatched from Arthur fingers and the hag scuttled away in a manner witch reminded Molly uncomfortably of a house elf.

Molly felt Arthur’s hand come protectively over her distended stomach. The child though unborn was called William.

Weasley’s never had girls.

**Part One : Eloquence is given.**

It was raining, and Arthur Weasley was worried. These were trying times and in different parts of England, Weasleys were engaged, each in their own way, holding back the darkness that threatened to engulf their world.

His wife had been gone most of the day. It was a chore she had not wished to delay and one only she could perform, but now what daylight there was was fading, and Molly had not yet returned.

Then he saw her, her mop of red hair a beacon to his tired eyes. She was climbing out of a muggle car, a small red one with white stripes. He could see in the car, his wife turn to embrace a muggle woman with chestnut hair and shake hands with the driver, a man, the woman’s husband. His wife stood in the rain waiting for the car to disappear out the village, and then she turned toward the shadows.

“Arthur?”

He allowed the glamour to fall away, revealing his hiding place. “I’m here, Molly.”

She ran to him and he hugged her in relief. “Molly what happened? Where’s your broom?”

“Oh Arthur, the broom failed, you know how those old Cleansweeps are in the rain,” she cast about her. “Oh dear, I’ve left it in the car. The muggles, they were so sweet, they gave me a lift, insisted on bringing me right to the village.”

Arthur looked into his wife’s eyes. “You’ve been crying?”

“Oh, it’s just so sad, Arthur, the poor woman’s barren. We have so many children, and she can’t even have one.”

“Surely the muggle doctors?”

“Oh, she said they tried everything, she used lots of words I didn’t understand, but there was no hope. They were thinking of divorce! Please don’t be angry, Arthur.”

“Why should I be angry?” Then he realized. “Molly you didn’t? It was all our savings.”

“I couldn’t help it, Arthur, we have been blessed so many times and she had nothing.”

“A Witch Charm, Molly, it won’t give them just any child.”

“I know, Arthur, but it was all I had. I don’t care about the cost, Arthur. It was the right thing to do!”

Arthur sighed, he wasn’t angry. He had married this woman and he knew her nature better than any man did; he could not expect her to act against it.

“I’m just concerned, Molly; she’ll be born a witch, and this is a bad time for Muggleborn witches.”

“There must be something we can do, Arthur, to protect them from him.”

“I’ll talk to Dumbledore; he may be able to do something. Can you remember their names?”

“Granger,” she said. “Dennis and Sylvia Granger.”

**Part Two: The Gift of Strength**

The child had been eager to get into the world, the labour swift; there had been too little time to get to the hospital, so it had fallen upon Arthur to deliver his own son, in the very bed in which he had been conceived. Now mother and son were receiving an illustrious visitor.

Albus Dumbledore had entered her bedroom.

Molly was acutely aware, despite the cleansing charms performed by her husband, of the myriad of smells that had accompanied the birth, of sweat, and blood, and other things.

“Good evening, Molly,” the old wizard said. “It appears that my visit has coincided with this fortuitous occasion.”

“Good evening, Professor.”

“Is this the young man? May I hold him? I so rarely hold babies,” he chuckled. “By the time they come to me, they are almost grown and believe they know everything.”

Dumbledore took the baby and cradled him naturally in him arms. “Have you named him yet?”

Molly blushed. “I was still hopeful. I only had girls names chosen.”

“Ah, yes, the missing charm. I’ll address that just now, but for the moment this child needs a name.” He paused in thought. “Will you accept a suggestion, Molly?”

She nodded.

“Call him ‘Ronald’ dear. It means ‘strength,’ and it is something we have grave need of in these times.”

“Ronald,” she said. “Ron.” It seemed to fit, as if the name was just waiting to be revealed. “Yes. I’ll speak to Arthur, but it’s right, it’s his name.”

The old wizard smiled. “Oh dear,” he said.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Molly. It just appears that having christened your son, he has decided to christen me.”

He handed the child back to Molly and muttered a quick cleaning spell on his robes.

“Now to other business. The uh, lost charm that Arthur told me about. The Grangers have had a daughter who will in all probability attend Hogwarts in the same year as this young fellow. Precautions have been taken.”

“I’m sorry, Professor, I should never have given a Witch Charm to Muggles.”

“Nonsense, my dear, you acted as your heart dictated. Such gifts, sacrifices of love, have a way of replaying themselves many times over. Your son here is part of that repayment, as is the gift I have for you.”

“A gift for me?”

“From a young Muggleborn witch who has shown great promise in these ancient magics.” Dumbledore reached into his robe and pulled out a small parcel. “A charm freely given to replace the one sacrificed.”

“A charm? But these are so expensive, I can’t just take it.”

“It is this witch’s first charm; she has doubts as to its potency. She will accept no payment.”

“How can I thank her then?”

“I’m afraid you can’t dear. I’m afraid I can’t even reveal her name. She has been forced into hiding.”

“Can you tell her?”

“If I see her again… yes.”

**Part Three - Bittersweet**

The celebrations were muted at the Burrow. Throughout all of England, wizards and witches were celebrating the defeat of ‘He-who-must-not-be-named,’ but while Molly was grateful that her sons and her recently born daughter could face a brighter future, the cost appeared to her to be too much.

“I can tell you now, Molly.” There was great sadness in Albus Dumbledore’s voice. “That your Witch Charm was made by Lily Potter. It was the only one she ever made.”

“The child, Professor? Harry. He’ll need a home. We could take Harry, Professor, to repay the debt. There are enough Weasley’s to protect him from what’s left of the scum.”

“I have no doubt you could, Molly, but is it fair to subject your children to a siege from these vile creatures?”

“Weasley’s pay their debts.”

There is no debt, Molly. Lily expected nothing from you, anymore than you expect something from the Grangers.”

“But the boy.”

“I have made arrangements for his care, Molly, and his safety.”

“What can I do?”

“Raise your children, Molly. I don’t believe this war is won. This is but a respite. Raise them to be strong and true.”

Fin.


End file.
